


Rain on Leaves

by MsEllieJane



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Healer!Brienne, Hurt/Comfort, The story continues!, and for some reason also Meditation Coach!Brienne, comes with soothing nature sounds for an immersive experience, descriptions of injuries, first aid Westeros-style, herbal remedies, who is also Fighter!Brienne
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsEllieJane/pseuds/MsEllieJane
Summary: When Jaime suffers an injury while on their journey through the Riverlands, Brienne reveals she is a skilled healer as well as a fighter. When their situation becomes dire, it falls upon Brienne to keep them both alive.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 37
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by and named for the [background nature sounds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yIQd2Ya0Ziw) that I listen to on my meditation app to fall asleep (which I suppose is an unusual twist on songfic). Many thanks to [aliveanddrunkonsunlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliveanddrunkonsunlight/pseuds/aliveanddrunkonsunlight) for the beta read and to the gang at JBTW for the encouragement and sprint-writing challenges.

The shelter she found could barely be called a cave, it was more of an outcropping of rock with a patch of dry earth underneath. Scarcely enough space for a small fire and only room for two people if they were willing to lie very close together. Brienne sighed, knowing it was the best they could manage to wait out the interminable rain. She directed the Kingslayer to sit while she built the fire, and he didn’t respond with his usual arrogance. Rather, he seemed relieved to be able to sit, and winced as he did. Brienne wondered at that, having noted he favored his right leg today and had been unusually quiet for the past few hours. 

“Is your leg causing you pain? You’ve been limping all day and haven't even spared the breath to complain about it.”

“Why do you care?” He asked sullenly, without his usual irritating swagger. 

Brienne shrugged at that, and busied herself with striking her flint over the tiny pile of dry wood slivers she had managed to collect. Most of the wood in the surrounding forest was soaked through from the rain, but there were a few dry sticks in the cave and a nearby pile of tree branches yielded some usable pieces. It wouldn’t be enough to burn all night, but it should let them dry their clothes.

The better part of an hour passed as Jaime stared at the rain, not even protesting or making a lewd remark when Brienne ordered him to strip down to his smallclothes so that she could spread his sodden clothing out in the little space they had. She deftly maneuvered his shackles to get his threadbare tunic off him without allowing him a chance to break free. He was oddly passive, not even making an attempt to escape. He did turn his head towards her as she removed her armor, cloak and breeches, but left her under tunic on. He seemed on the verge of mocking her attempt at modesty when he shifted slightly and let out a grunt of pain.

“I knew you were in pain,” she said, looking at him appraisingly. “It’s your leg, isn’t it?”

“So what if it is? Lady Catelyn ordered you to bring me to King’s Landing, but didn’t say anything about what condition I needed to be in.” Brienne rolled her eyes in response.

“You will slow us down in that state and make the journey take twice as long.”

“Always the pragmatic one, Wench. What do you propose I do about it? Is there a Maester hiding in this cave?” Brienne stared hard at him for a few moments, then closed her eyes and sighed. 

She opened her knapsack and dug through to the bottom, where her fingers closed on the familiar small leather pouch. Pulling it out, she opened it and carefully inspected the contents while Jaime watched with that annoying grin returning to his face.

“What are those dried herbs you have there? Is that moon tea?” The mocking laugh bubbled out of him and brought an angry blush to Brienne’s face. “Did you have a lover back at Renly’s camp? How much did you have to pay him?” Brienne turned to him with a sharp look, and hissed through gritted teeth.

“Do you want my help or not? I can let you stay in pain for the entire journey to King’s Landing, or you can shut up and show a little gratitude for what I’m doing for you, Kingslayer.”   


“Gratitude for what you’re doing for me, Wench? You mean marching me across the Riverlands in shackles as your prisoner? Forgive me if I don’t show much gratitude for that.”

Brienne huffed a sigh and went back to silently inspecting the dried herbs in her pouch. She had refilled it fairly recently and had enough to spare for the time being. As undeserving as he was of her help, she knew that for the sake of practicality it would be easier to travel without him limping in pain. She dug the small cooking pot out of her bag and set it out in the rain to fill with water while she stoked the fire. Once it was filled, she added three generous pinches of herbs to the pot and hung it from the cooking spit she had hastily assembled from a small tree branch. 

The Kingslayer remained mercifully silent as the water heated and she stared at the falling rain, lost in thought. Brienne hadn’t much time to sit with her thoughts as of late and she welcomed the brief moment of calm. Things had happened at such a rapid pace that she barely had time to process Renly’s death or reflect on her new allegiance to Lady Catelyn. More recently, the Kingslayer’s incessant chatter had kept her from properly comprehending the absurdity of their current situation. 

The mingled sounds of rain falling through leaves and crackling fire soothed her worried mind, at least for the time being. She allowed herself a few slow, deep breaths, letting them still her mind. A brief glance at the Kingslayer revealed he was unconsciously mirroring her breathing, which brought the tiniest of smiles to her lips. It would do him a bit of good, whether he realized it or not. It occurred to her that Alys had taught her so well that she was already getting into the mindset of a healer. It had never really happened while she was at Renly’s camp, as she always focused on treating her injuries as quickly as possible, before anyone else saw and accused her of weakness. 

The sound of bubbling drew her out of her thoughts, and she saw that the water was boiling and had darkened slightly. She stirred it with the cleanest stick she could find and carefully removed it from the flames, setting it on a flat rock to cool. It would take some time before it was the right temperature and strength to drink, so in the meantime she pulled a few strips of dried meat from her pack and handed half to her prisoner.

“At least you aren’t starving me, even if you are trying to poison me,” he grumbled. Brienne scoffed and shook her head.

“If I wanted you dead, I would have run you through with my sword back at Riverrun and been done with it. I wouldn’t be wasting my healing herbs in an attempt to ease your pain.” 

“You fancy yourself a woods witch as well as a knight then, Wench? I never would have guessed it, to look at you.” When Brienne didn’t respond, he continued. “Are you brewing a potion to make me fall madly in love with you? Perhaps I should start calling you Witch instead of Wench.” 

Brienne stared at him while silently chewing and he had the courtesy to look at least a little abashed. 

“What’s in it, then? It smells of mint and bitterness, and I am not sure I should drink it, even if it isn’t poison.”

“Willow bark for the pain,” Brienne muttered, and he nodded in familiarity. “There is also rosemary and ginger for the inflammation, cramp bark to relax the muscles, valerian root to calm the mind, and mint leaves to cover the bitterness.”

“That does sound...good. Where did you get such a mixture? I’ve never received anything like that from a maester.”

“That’s because a maester didn’t invent it. A healer on Tarth named Alys did, and she had enough knowledge to put the most skilled maesters to shame. Were she not a woman, she would be Grand Maester by now.”

“Just like how you would be a knight if you weren’t a woman? I can see why you liked this Alys. Two kindred souls you are.” His tone wasn’t mocking, but something about it unsettled her. 

Brienne busied herself with pouring some of the brew into her battered tin cup. She blew on it a bit, and determined it was cool enough to drink. She handed it to Jaime, who sniffed at it suspiciously. 

“You are certain this isn’t poison?” At Brienne’s glare, he rolled his eyes and took a small sip. He seemed to contemplate the flavor for a moment before shrugging and slowly drinking the rest. He handed the cup back to her and she refilled it. Instead of giving it to him to drink, she downed it herself. 

“Is being with me causing you that much pain, Witch?” She nodded.

“The sound of your voice gives me the most terrible headache,” she said dryly, and he laughed at that. It wasn’t his usual cruel laugh, but something that sounded nearly joyful.

“You are funnier than I gave you credit for. First a healer and now a dry wit. I don’t suppose you can also juggle and summon dragons?”

“Not yet, and don’t call me Witch,” she said with a slight scowl, and handed him another cupful. He drank it without complaint, and she could start to see a slight easing of the tension in his posture and facial expression. Her intention had originally been to give him the tea and hope it cured what ailed him, but Alys’s lessons stuck in her mind. One of the first things the old healer had taught her was the importance of treating the whole person, and that drinking a brew wasn’t always enough. She looked carefully at Jaime, studying his posture and positioning, and he looked back at her with an air of confusion.

“Where in your leg does the pain start?”

“In my hip, I think. There is a dull ache when I put weight on it.”

Brienne cringed inwardly at that. Of course it had to be his hip, the one part of him that was still covered by his smallclothes. It couldn't have been something easily accessible like his foot or knee. 

“Would you mind letting me look at it more closely?” His eyebrows went up at that, and the smirk returned to his lips.

“Are you so eager to get into my smallclothes that you would pretend to be a healer, Witch? I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

“Forget it,” Brienne grumbled, and turned away from him to stare at the rain. A few blessedly silent minutes went by before she felt him shift next to her, followed by a soft grunt of pain. She turned to look at him again and saw a contrite look on his face. She sighed in resignation and he gave a small smile as he moved the fabric covering his left hip out of the way.

“I’m just going to see if there are any visible signs of injury,” she said as she moved closer. Sure enough, a dark bruise bloomed over his hipbone and the entire area was quite swollen. She winced in sympathy.

“Did you recently experience any injuries on your left side? A fall perhaps.” He shrugged, and she could see the tension in his shoulders.

“The Starks weren’t exactly gentle with me, I’ve been pushed to the ground and kicked more than once. Sprinting through the Riverlands on foot hasn’t helped it either.” She winced at that, realizing that the punishing pace she set might have been making the injury worse. 

“I have a salve that can help with the bruise and swelling,” she said quietly. “I’ve used it on myself and it helps with injuries like that. The men in Renly’s camp weren’t exactly gentle either.”

He looked up at that, his face hard to read. Was it sympathy? They had so little in common, but perhaps his past year gave him an understanding of being the person singled out for punishment. After a moment he nodded, and she fished the small jar carefully wrapped in fabric from her pack.

“Do you have an entire healer’s cupboard in that pack, Witch?” 

“Just about,” she replied with a small smile. “Alys didn’t want me heading off to war unprepared. I have another salve to put on wounds so that they won’t become infected, some clean linen to use for bandaging and even moon tea.” Her voice trailed off at the end, unsure of why she just told him that.

“Aha, so I’m not the only one who suspected you would take a lover in Renly’s camp.” The mocking smile was back and she grimaced slightly.

“No, she was terrified I would be raped.” 

“Oh,” he responded, looking taken aback and slightly contrite. 

“I never had need to use it, in either regard,” she said quietly, and he let out a small sigh.

“Good. I’m glad. Not about you never finding a lover, of course. You just haven't met the right man, Witch, but I’m sure you will someday.”

“Do you want me to treat your leg or not?” she retorted angrily, feeling the recently acquired calm escape her.

“If you would be so kind, my benevolent captor.” He pulled up the bottom edge of his smallclothes to expose his injury and wagged his eyebrows at her over his shoulder. Brienne sighed and scooped a small amount of salve from the jar and began to smooth it across his skin. He winced slightly at contact and she pulled her hand back.

“Am I hurting you more?”

“No, I mean, not much. Keep going, I’ll be fine.” 

She raised her eyebrows but went back to gently rubbing the salve into his skin. Once she was done, she continued to massage the muscles in his leg around the injury, knowing that the tension she felt in them was most likely making the pain worse. She felt him relax and let out a long sigh.

“What’s in that salve, it feels nice. It’s...cooling? What sort of witchcraft is this? I rather like it.”

“Arnica, yarrow and comfrey to help with the swelling and pain, and oil of peppermint for the cooling effect you are feeling.”

“Another creation of Alys the healer?” 

“Yes, she used it on me when I took a few too many blows during sword training with Ser Goodwin. I would be bruised all over, but the salve made the bruises and pain fade quickly.”

“I should have known you had formal fighting training and weren’t just some witch who picked up a sword and decided to be a knight! I could see your technique when you took down those Stark men, it’s decent.”

Brienne blushed and shrugged, not knowing how to respond when the greatest swordsman and most terrible scoundrel alive paid her a grudging compliment. She wanted to be angry, but a little part of her preened at the praise.

“How is your leg feeling now?” 

“Definitely better. Still a little sore, but much less so. Thank you.” The smile on his face was genuine, all mockery gone. She nodded, feeling something complicated that she couldn’t quite name bloom in her chest.

The two of them sat in companionable silence for some time, the valerian root in the tea making them slightly drowsy. After a while, Brienne checked their clothes and found them to be sufficiently dry. As Jaime put his trousers back on, the grin came back.

“I suppose you will miss seeing all of this,” he said while gesturing up and down his body. “I could sleep in my smallclothes if you like.”

“You’ll get cold if you do that,” she replied in tired exasperation. “This fire won’t last much longer and there isn’t any more wood around.”

He grumbled wordlessly as he put the rest of his clothes on and stretched himself out on his bedroll. 

“You surprise me, Witch.”

“Do I?”

“For someone so stubborn and cross, you are surprisingly gentle and a damned good healer. Perhaps you missed your calling when you picked up that sword.”

Brienne shook her head as she curled up on her bedroll with her back to him. The last few crackles of the fire faded as she drifted to sleep. Later that night, she awoke to find that Jaime had moved so that he was curled up against her. She briefly contemplated elbowing him before deciding to accept the warmth he provided and go back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the story is complete for now, I have a few ideas running through my head that follow Brienne on her journey, so there might be a continuation someday...

The first thing Locke’s men did was take her satchel and rifle through it. Brienne watched in horror, expecting them to toss her healing supplies into the mud. By some stroke of luck, they didn’t, and Brienne felt a tiny sliver of hope that maybe she could get them back if she played her cards right.

Her hope vanished once she found herself tied to the Kingslayer on horseback with her legs splayed and draped over his. The men laughed at the vision of them looking like lovers, but all she could think of was that she was injuring him further. Without looking at him, she could tell he was in pain. Despite her fury at him for getting them into this predicament she did her best to not rest the weight of her leg on top of his injured one. 

She thought nothing could get worse, but then Jaime told of her likely fate and the cold chill of terror spread through her veins. He whispered of going away inside and imagining they were Renly, and she couldn’t tell if he was trying to help or mocking her. She couldn’t quite focus, her heart and mind were racing until she landed on a single thought.

“Please,” she whispered. “Make sure I get my moon tea back. After…” she couldn’t finish the sentence but he nodded.

“I will do everything I can,” he uttered, and it felt like a vow.

In the end, it wasn't the moon tea she needed. 

Once again tied together on horseback, this time the Kingslayer delirious with pain, she wished for Alys. The old woman wasn’t a maester, but she would know what to do, Brienne was sure of it. As it was, she felt completely helpless and out of her depth. If she had her healing kit, she could at the very least give him willow bark and use her salve on the severed stump of his arm to ward off infection, but she was left with nothing to help the broken man in front of her. 

She whispered what she hoped were soothing words to him, knowing he wasn’t hearing them. Her hatred of the Kingslayer was forgotten as her soft heart broke for him in those moments when he wept into her shoulder and shuddered in pain. She felt no small amount of guilt, knowing he had saved her from a cruel fate and was maimed in return. 

When Brienne realized Locke’s men had left him in her care, she did her best, wishing again for Alys’s advice. She kept him propped up on the horse and dragged his nearly nonresponsive body to the river to bathe him. She tried to get him to eat but was unsuccessful. Finally, when his fever was so severe she knew he would die if she didn’t help him, she begged Locke’s men to give her back her willow bark tea, warning that their prisoner would die on their watch without her intervention.

She feared they would demand something horrible in return, but they merely tossed her the bag of herbs with a threat that she would die if the Kingslayer did. She managed to find a cup of water which she could set on the ground near the fire to heat up. It wasn’t as good as boiling it, but she was able to brew something resembling tea and got it down his throat in small sips once it had cooled. After a few doses, his fever broke and he was slightly more coherent.

Seeing her success, their captors grudgingly handed over her satchel with the stipulation that she treat their ailments as well. She feared she would use up all of her supplies on them, but there was fortunately enough to spare after she had treated and wrapped a few repulsive looking wounds and splinted a broken ankle. The Kingslayer’s wrist was already badly infected, but she put a generous amount of salve on it and prayed to the seven that it would work. 

Once he was awake enough to eat, she tried to coax him through his despair, telling him to live and take his revenge. She had no idea what she was doing, but he finally ate and she was grateful for it. 

That night they were left to their own devices by Locke’s men, and Jaime asked her about Alys and how she came to learn healing. She didn’t want to say anything at first, but after some time she let herself open up to him. 

“It happened when I was 13 and my moonblood first started.” She waited for the sarcastic response and when it didn’t come, she took a deep breath and continued.

“I had terrible pains from it, such that I couldn’t do embroidery lessons, much less train with a sword. My septa scolded me for it, saying the pains were punishment for not being woman enough. She said I was weak.” At that, his head rose and he made eye contact with her.

“How could someone ever accuse you of weakness, witch? That’s like calling the Mountain small or my father kindhearted.” She wondered if the delirium caused him to say such complimentary words, but she continued her story in hopes of distracting him from his pain.

“The maester was called and he refused to help me. He agreed with my septa and said women suffer worse pain in childbed and that I should get used to it. I was demoralized and wanted to give up, thinking I would never swing a sword again. That was when one of my handmaids called Alys to come help me.” She smiled at the memory, sweet as it was intertwined with pain.

“Alys was technically one of the kitchen staff, but she was rarely found in the kitchen. She had learned healing from her mother, who learned from her mother before her. She took one look at me curled up on the bed in pain and brought me a cup of bitter tea. It tasted awful, but it made the cramps subside and I quickly felt better. This seemed like magic to me, and I wanted to learn how she did it. After some coaxing, she taught me about healing herbs and how to treat injuries. When I got hurt while training, I went to her for help because I knew the maester would scold me for engaging in unladylike pursuits. I learned how to wrap wounds and brew teas and massage muscle aches. When I told my father of my intentions to join Renly’s forces, Alys brought me the healing kit I have now. I’ve since replenished some of it from herbs I’ve managed to find in the wild, but I’m afraid I’m running low. I used the last of my willow bark tea to bring you back from the brink of death, so you had best stay alive.” She saw the faint edges of a smile on his lips.

“I suppose I will, if you say so.” He was quiet after that, and she let him rest, hoping desperately that her efforts weren’t in vain.

When the party finally arrived at Harrenhal, Jaime went off to what passed for a maester while Brienne found herself ushered down to the baths. She scrubbed her skin raw, trying to erase the bad memories along with the layers of dirt. She tried to still her frantic thoughts, focusing on the silence around her and the slow curls of steam rising from the water. She had finally reached a point where her breathing had calmed when she heard a voice from the other side of the room and looked up to see the Kingslayer make his way to her tub. She protested in vain as he settled himself opposite her.

“You did fine work out there, Witch,” he said in a weak voice. “The maester said he would have had to amputate more of my arm if it wasn’t for that horrible-smelling magic ointment you put on it.”

“That’s the garlic in it,” she said with downcast eyes. “It stops infection from spreading but it smells rather pungent. Did he give you anything for the pain?” Looking up at his face, she could see that it was drawn in pain, his muscles tense with it.

“I didn’t want milk of the poppy and he had no willowbark.” Brienne sighed sadly at that.

“You should take the milk of the poppy. Alys used to frown upon it, but there is no point in putting yourself through more agony.”

He had no reply to that, so they sat in silence until Brienne went back to breathing slowly, trying to return to a state of stillness. He eventually mirrored her, taking deep breaths with his eyes shut. They breathed together for quite some time as the water steamed around them, all plans to clean themselves forgotten.

She eventually opened her eyes to see his emerald gaze fixed on her. He called for a truce and she nodded, feeling a trust in him she didn’t quite understand. 

Then he began his story and she bit back her questions. He needed her to listen, so she did.

He started losing consciousness when he finished, almost as though he had been holding onto the last vestiges of his strength to make sure she knew the truth. She scolded herself for not seeing the signs of his impending fainting and lifted him from the tub. She laid him out on the stone floor and made sure he was still breathing before bringing a cool cloth to place on his head and calling for the guards for help.

He was whisked away and she was ushered to a dilapidated chamber and given a horrible dress to wear. When she saw him again, he was awake and clothed and attempting to eat a tough cut of meat with one hand. She reflexively helped him, as though it were something she did every day, and earned a suspicious look from Roose Bolton. She knew her situation was dire, but didn’t realize the half of it until Jaime was staying her hand, murmuring that it wasn’t worth it, as she foolishly attempted to attack their host.

It wasn’t until Ser Jaime was promising to fulfill their vow as he left that she realized she really did trust him. When he jumped into the bear pit to save her, a part of her wasn’t surprised. A part of her knew he would come back for her, though she wasn’t certain if it was out of gratitude or something else. 

On their way to King's Landing, she found a willow tree by a river where they camped for the night and harvested as much bark as she could without damaging it too severely. She prepared the most concentrated dose of tea she could manage and Jaime drank it down gratefully, though he winced at the bitterness. 

“Thank you, wench. I daresay your skills as a healer surpass those of our escort,” he nodded at Qyburn with a wry look. Brienne managed a small smile at that.

“Ser Jaime,” she began and then faltered, her words escaping her.

“It’s alright, I know. You are eternally grateful that I foolishly risked my life to save you and you don’t know how you can ever repay me. I’d say this disgusting tea is a decent start, but I might need to keep you around to patch up any other scrapes I get.” She scowled and he smiled and things felt a little better between them.

When they finally arrived at King’s Landing, Ser Jaime looked so lost that Brienne’s heart broke a little. He wasn’t the same man he had been when he left, and she could tell he was struggling to reconcile that. After he had ensured that Brienne’s name was cleared regarding Renly’s death, he disappeared somewhere in the Red Keep and she didn’t see him again for some time.

Brienne spent her time getting to know the Tyrells and exploring the Red Keep. While wandering the lush gardens, she came upon a smaller garden plot that was hidden from the main paths. Unlike the elegant flowers and neatly landscaped trees of the main grounds, this garden had practical use. All of the plants she recognized had medicinal properties and she assumed the ones she didn’t were also for healing. She felt a great deal of comfort from those plants, remembering the small plot that Alys kept at Evenfall and the trips they took out to the forest to harvest herbs in the wild. 

She started visiting the garden each day to soothe herself with the familiar scents. One day she came across two women, one older one younger, harvesting herbs. They were suspicious of her at first, but after displaying her knowledge of the plants and their properties, they grudgingly allowed her to assist them. With little else to occupy her time, Brienne was thankful to once again perform the tasks of harvesting and drying herbs. She soon befriended the pair, a mother and daughter, who worked out of a small set of rooms in the servants’ wing of the keep. They taught her about new plants she was unfamiliar with and traded recipes. They liked Alys’s addition of peppermint oil to the salve for muscle aches and Brienne learned of a few new components to make a more effective sleeping draught. While she ached to bring Sansa back to her home, Brienne felt something akin to peace for the first time since she left Lady Catelyn’s side.

When Brienne at last encountered Ser Jaime again, she saw that he had been outfitted with a heavy gold hand in place of the one he had lost. She was dismayed by the pain she could clearly see in his eyes. 

“You shouldn’t be wearing that,” she blurted out, blunt as ever. “You aren’t fully healed and the weight of it will make your injury worse. It must hurt terribly!”

“The evidence of my maiming is unsightly,” he said simply, sounding tired. 

Brienne looked at him quizzically, wondering what happened to make the brash, cocky man she had grown to grudgingly respect look so defeated. She knew that the loss of his sword hand felt like a loss of identity, and she couldn’t imagine how awful that felt. She did know that she could at least help alleviate some of his physical pain, and bid him to take off the gold hand.

“It will just be for a few moments, your sister needn’t find out.” 

He looked at her pointedly at that remark, but sighed and started clumsily pulling on the laces to the gold hand. Brienne wanted to push his hands out of the way and untie the laces for him, but realized that he needed to know he could do this himself. Once he had removed the hand and the cloth covering his stump, she winced at the sight of his bruised and irritated flesh.

“Ser Jaime,” she began slowly, swallowing her horror. “This looks like it hurts a great deal.” At his silent nod, she continued. “I know how important it is to certain people that you look a certain way, but wearing that hand is damaging you. I’m not a maester and I can’t force you to stop wearing it, but based on everything I’ve learned about healing, I sincerely recommend that you do. Or at least limit the time you wear it each day.”

“If I’m to be Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, I have to maintain the appearance of being whole.” Brienne let out a sigh and nodded, knowing there was no persuading him. To a man like him, pride overshadowed pain.

“Could I at least bring you to the healers I met here at the Red Keep? They could put together a poultice to put on it, they do very good work and I know they will be discrete.

“Already befriending the servants, Witch. Do you aim to be Queen someday?”

“I aim to bring Sansa to her home, but seeing as I can’t do that right now, I might as well help a friend.” She saw an odd look pass across his face like a cloud through the sky after she called him her friend, and kicked herself for doing so. He thankfully didn’t remark on it, and asked her to lead the way.

“I’ve been living here for nearly twenty years and I’ve never seen this part of the keep,” he said, looking abashed. Brienne smirked at him.

“The smallfolk are often ignored, but the keep would fall apart without them and the work they perform. My father taught me that and made sure I knew the names of every servant at Evenfall, and the names of their children.” He chuckled at that and allowed her to lead him through the dark corridors to the unassuming rooms where the healers worked.

“This is Selene and her daughter Lyra,” she said by way of introduction as the two women gawked at Jaime and stumbled into curtseys. Even without his golden armor, he looked imposing and achingly handsome, despite his recent ordeal.

“Ser Jaime has recently suffered a grave injury and I’m afraid the means he uses to disguise it is causing further damage.” She ignored his scowl and gestured at him to take the hand off. He acquiesced after a pause and the healers made the same noises of reaction she had upon seeing his stump.

“I understand Lady Brienne saved your wrist from infection, Ser,” said Selene, “but the flesh here has not fully healed.”

“So says Lady Brienne, but I must wear the hand, there is no other option.” The mother and daughter exchanged looks with Brienne at that. 

“Could you not wear something less heavy?” asked Lyra shyly. “A hook, perhaps?”

“A hook would certainly be more practical, but it would draw too much attention.”

“Right,” said Selene as she shook her head. “No changing this one’s mind, is there? Well, Ser, I can mix up a poultice to use at night that will relieve the pain and bruising and another to apply before you put the hand on to stave off infection. Would that suit you?”

“It would very much, thank you,” he said with a respectful nod of his head. Brienne smiled at that while Selene raised her eyebrows.

“Well, clear off then, both of you. Lyra and I have work to do and don’t need the two of you standing there gawking. No, wait,” she called out as Brienne and Jaime started to leave. “We will need fresh arnica and yarrow from the garden to make this. Could you gather some for us, Lady Brienne?”

“Of course, Selene. It would be no trouble, I will fetch it for you shortly.” The older woman nodded at that and began removing jars from shelves and cutting the strings of bunches of herbs hung from the ceiling to dry. Jaime seemed slightly taken aback that she so readily agreed to the demands of a serving woman and Brienne shook her head. He had so much to learn. 

Jaime trailed after Brienne as she made her way to the garden, and she couldn’t help but be reminded of Galladon’s small dog that would follow him everywhere. 

“Don’t you have more important things to do, Ser Jaime?”

“Not at the moment, my Lady. My afternoon is clear of appointments and I’m quite eager to see my favorite witch pursue her craft.” Brienne scowled at that and he grinned back. 

“Very well. Wait here a moment, I need to fetch a knife from the kitchens.”

“You already carry a blade, do you not?” 

“I’m not using my sword to cut leaves from plants, that would be ridiculous and needlessly dull the blade.” She stomped off to the kitchen and returned shortly with a small cooking knife and a basket. When they finally made it to the small garden plot, she instructed him to hold the basket for her, which he did with uncharacteristic patience. She began methodically harvesting leaves and flowers, including a few other plants besides the ones that were requested. She knew the recipes would deplete Selene’s stock of dried herbs and wanted to replenish them.

“Does this make me a healer in training?” he asked after she had worked in silence for a time. She shrugged and he looked disappointed.

“Do you actually want to learn how to do all this? Don’t you have better things to do as Lord Commander of Kingsguard?”

“Not at the moment, right now I’m assisting you. I would like to learn how you do it, just to know that if I was injured in the line of duty, I would be able to keep myself from dying.”

“I suppose there are a few things I can show you, if you are willing to learn.”

“I am,” he said, the eagerness apparent in his voice.

“We can start right now, put down the basket and sit on the bench over there.” He obeyed and she hesitated a moment before sitting down.

“What I’m going to show you has nothing to do with herbs or poultices or dressing wounds. It’s about finding stillness within.” He snorted derisively and she glared at him. “Have you ever found yourself in a state of extreme focus while fighting, where all other thoughts fall away and it’s just you and your blade?” He nodded, as she expected. 

“It’s a bit like that, but without the sword. Instead of focusing on each strike and move, you focus on each breath. In and out slowly, letting it still your mind until everything becomes very clear. You might have seen me doing it a few times. I know that there were a few moments when you started breathing along with me.”

“I was wondering about that,” he admitted. “It made me feel calmer just watching you.”

“Good, that was the point,” she said with a delighted grin. Jaime's face softened in response and he looked willing to continue.

“What if I can’t still my thoughts? Sometimes they move in a thousand directions and I can’t banish them.”

“It isn’t about banishing them completely, though with time and practice it does become easier to do that. To start though, just try to observe your thoughts as though you are seeing them from far away. Don’t try to control them, just watch. Close your eyes and breathe with me and try doing that.”

He looked skeptical but closed his eyes and Brienne started her slow breaths, listening to him carefully. It didn’t take him long to fall into the same pattern, and the two of them sat together and breathed, just as they had in the cave and in the baths. 

“Now try to imagine your thoughts as clouds in the sky. Observe them and then let them drift by. Don’t try to control them.” She opened her eyes and saw that he was struggling, the muscles in his face moving. She knew that feeling well. 

“There is nothing wrong if you get caught up in thinking, just step away from that thought and let it drift away. Then bring your focus back to the feeling of breathing in and out, the rise and fall of your chest. Distractions will arise and you will follow them, it happens to me every time. The important thing is to then let go and go back to the breath.” He visibly relaxed after that and Brienne felt a strange surge of happiness. His face looked peaceful, his forehead smooth. It was the first time she had ever seen him look completely at ease. She let him breathe for a few more minutes, guiltily enjoying the chance to stare at him without being ridiculed.

“Alright, start to deepen your breaths and come back to yourself. When you are ready, open your eyes.”

She was well familiar with his emerald eyes, but when he opened them now it nearly took her breath away. She caught herself before he noticed. 

“That was quite remarkable,” he said quietly, with awe in his voice. “Did your Alys teach you this?”

“No, it was Ser Goodwin, the man who taught me how to fight. He made me sit and breathe for ten minutes before training each day.”

“I would have hated that.”

“I did hate it for the longest time. But after what felt like years, I began to see how much it helped. It helped me focus, which in turn made me a better fighter.”

“What does it have to do with healing? I thought you were to teach me the healing arts.”

“It’s hard to explain, but it helps in a way that isn’t always apparent. It gives you an awareness of your body, which in turn helps you determine what’s wrong with it. There’s more to it than that, but I don’t really have the words to describe it.” 

“I suppose I will have to take your word for it. I didn’t hate it, but you still owe me a proper lesson.”

“Perhaps later, I’m certain you have more important things to attend to right now.” 

“I wish that weren’t so, but if I don't return to the White Sword Tower shortly, I suspect the entire Kingsguard will be searching for me. I hope to see you again soon, Lady Brienne.” 

“And I you, Ser Jaime,” she said with a nod. She told herself to stop staring at him as he walked away, but her eyes were glued to his retreating form and an odd feeling welled up in her chest. She turned back to the garden plot and plucked a sprig of mint leaves to chew on, hoping the sharp flavor would distract her, but it did not.

Brienne didn’t see Jaime again for nearly a week, and even then it was only from afar, at Joffrey’s ill-fated wedding. She was dressed plainly, with her family crest embroidered on her tunic, and Jaime’s sister was reading the look on her face with terrifying accuracy. Brienne wanted to run and hide after that mortification, but then events overtook her humiliation, and in the aftermath she discovered that Lady Sansa had vanished.

Brienne felt lost in darkness for a short time thereafter. After everything she had been through, she had failed in her vow to Lady Catelyn. No amount of meditation could help her shake her despair, and all through it she saw no sign of Ser Jaime anywhere. Selene and Lyra informed her that he had sent a squire down to fetch the medicine they had made for him, and Brienne hoped he was applying it correctly. 

She had almost convinced herself that her best course of action would be to return to Tarth with her tail between her legs and marry the first man who would have her, when she received a summons to the White Sword Tower. Jaime looked much improved when she saw him, and the easy smile on his face was evidence that he was in less pain. If he mourned the son he couldn’t call his own, there was no sign of it. 

He promised her four gifts, and she was so overwhelmed by the first three that she nearly cried. 

She felt half in a daze to be standing in front of Jaime in the armor he’d had made for her, holding the priceless sword and glancing at the eager lad who was to be her squire. None of it felt real, and she had to take a few slow breaths to ground herself. Jaime smiled at that. 

“Now that you are focused and clear headed, I have one final gift for you.”

He handed her a large leather satchel, similar to the one she used to carry. She worked open the buckles securing it and drew in a gasping breath. It was lined with pockets that held small jars wrapped in fabric and pouches made of soft leather. She carefully examined each item and realized that Jaime was sending her off with a healer’s treasure trove. There were salves and ointments for a dozen types of injury and mixtures of dried herbs to treat everything from fevers to sleeplessness. She even recognized a packet of moon tea and blushed at the implication.

“You never know, Witch,” he said to her softly. “You might meet the man of your dreams while on your quest.” She knew the real reason for it, but appreciated the absurd fantasy he painted. 

“Please give Selene and Lyra my thanks, I know this must have used up a lot of their supply.”

“I’ve already made arrangements to give them a larger garden plot and assigned a young page without the aptitude for fighting to be their apprentice. Perhaps they can make a maester of him someday.”

“Thank you, Ser Jaime,” she said with an incline of her head. She suddenly felt an aching tenderness towards him and wished she wasn’t leaving. The look she read in his eyes was wistful and she wondered if he felt the same. 

“Please stay alive, Lady Brienne. Promise me.” She thought she heard his voice catch in his throat.

“You know I can’t promise you that, Ser Jaime, but your gift might very well keep me alive. So, thank you. Again.” He nodded with a sad smile as she climbed onto the beautiful horse he had presented her with. Another gift she could never possibly repay. 

“Farewell, Ser Jaime,” she said with a last look back at his unfairly handsome face. “Take care of your arm.” 

He responded with a wave of his golden hand as she rode away.

“Where are we going, my Lady?” Brienne was startled by the voice of Podrick, still unsure why he was with her.

“Come along Podrick, we have a vow to uphold.”

She looked down at the healer’s bag strapped to her horse and smiled. For the first time in months, Brienne felt sure that she could do exactly that. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jaime had gifted it to her, Brienne had assumed the healer’s kit would be something she used infrequently. Perhaps a patch up here and there, or an occasional cup of digestive tea after a poor quality meal at an inn. After all, she hadn’t needed to use her kit too frequently when she was on her own, and she got into a fair number of scrapes. What she hadn’t considered was her new squire, who was the most accident-prone person Brienne had ever met....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rain on Leaves was meant to be a standalone story, but after completing it I kept coming up with new ideas for this healer Brienne au. I wanted her adventures to continue, so I decided to keep writing. I hope you enjoy! Many thanks to CatherineFlowers for the beta-ing!

When Jaime had gifted it to her, Brienne had assumed the healer’s kit would be something she used infrequently. Perhaps a patch up here and there, or an occasional cup of digestive tea after a poor quality meal at an inn. After all, she hadn’t needed to use her kit too frequently when she was on her own, and she got into a fair number of scrapes. What she hadn’t considered was her new squire, who was the most accident-prone person Brienne had ever met. 

By the end of the first week, Podrick had fallen off his horse half a dozen times and had to have his ankle and then his wrist treated for sprains. He also sustained a nasty cut to the temple after he rode into a low-hanging tree branch. Brienne treated him each time with more patience than she thought herself capable of, and attempted to teach him the basics of injury treatment as she went. He took it all in with wide eyes and a bashful expression, especially after the fourth or fifth time.

She hoped the lad would become less accident-prone with time, but then came the flaming rabbit on a stick, which led to a nasty burn on his hand. Brienne was paralized for a brief moment, unsure of what to do while Podrick stood there with tears of pain in his eyes. Alys had taught her that the best treatment for a minor burn was cold water, but she had none to spare. The waterskins were near empty and lukewarm to boot. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and willed herself to take three deep breaths. When she opened her eyes, she knew exactly what to do.

She grabbed Podrick by the non-injured arm, and dragged him in the direction of the faint sound of water flowing over rocks. Sure enough, after a few minutes of hurried stumbling through the woods, she found a small creek. She instructed Pod to put his hand in the icy cold water, and while he winced at the initial shock of pain, his expression soon eased as the water numbed the burn.

“Thank you, My Lady,” he said, sounding relieved. “It’s feeling much better now.”

“That might be true, but you will need to keep your hand in the water a bit longer, until it is fully cooled.” Podrick nodded and some time passed as the two of them sat in silence, absorbing the soothing sounds around them.

“I remember my gran telling me that the best thing for a burn is to put butter on it.”

“No, you should never do that” she responded with more force than anticipated, and Podrick winced. “Butter will make the burn worse, it cooks the skin. Cold water is best for now, and I will find something to put on it later to help it heal.” She gestured for him to give her his hand so that she could examine it. The burn was an angry red and she could see a few small blisters, but the skin was thankfully not blackened.

“This should heal up soon enough, but will probably hurt in the process.” The lad grimaced at that and she gave him a pointed look in return. “You need to be more careful, Podrick. Especially around fire. If you didn’t know how to properly cook a rabbit, you should have asked me how.”

“I know, my lady,” he said with his head hung low. “I was too embarrassed to ask.”

“We will be stuck together for the foreseeable future, so I suggest you get over that embarrassment soon and learn to ask for help.” She almost laughed at herself, knowing that she rarely heeded the advice she dispensed. At least she’d had the foresight to ask Alys a good many questions before she left for Renly’s camp. 

“I think a meal of dried rations will suffice for tonight, Podrick. There will be more rabbits tomorrow.” He looked relieved and set about unpacking the food they had brought with them. Later, they sat by the fire in silence while the willow bark tea simmered in a cooking pot and took a few sips each from the wineskin that had somehow ended up in their bags. 

“I’m sorry for being so clumsy, my lady,” he said in a small voice. Brienne had been nursing a quiet irritation with the lad all day, but his shamed expression took the sting out of it. She could remember being young and clumsy and completely out of her league as she endeavoured to learn from Ser Goodwin. Alys had treated many a scrape and bruise without complaint, and only scolded her when it was evident her injuries were from truly reckless behavior. 

“It takes time to learn these things Pod, and I don’t imagine Lord Tyrion was the best instructor in the ways of squiring.”

“No, my lady. He mostly just asked me to fetch him wine.”

“I figured as much,” she said with a sigh. “I was never a proper squire myself, but I’ll teach you what I know.”

“Could you teach me about healing and herbs, my lady?” Brienne was a little surprised by the unexpected question, but the look on his face was so earnest and hopeful that she couldn’t refuse him. She briefly cursed her soft heart at giving in so easily.

“I suppose I could, if you promise to pay attention and take what I teach you to heart. Healing is a tricky thing sometimes, and you won’t always have the right answer. It’s more than just brewing teas and applying poultices. There is a certain affinity for healing that can’t be taught, you either have it or you don’t.” 

“I promise not to disappoint you,” he said eagerly and Brienne had to stifle a laugh.

“Don’t make any promises yet, Pod. To start, you can take the pot off the fire and set it on that flat rock to cool. No, not with your bare hands, you’ve already burned your hand once today,” she barked out as he immediately reached for the pot. She tossed him a rag to use on the handle and sighed as it took him an inordinate amount of time to carefully lift the pot and set it down. While he did that, she rummaged through her satchel, looking for something to put on Pod’s burn.

“Aha, honey salve,” she said, holding out a small jar. 

“Honey, my lady? Is that to sweeten the tea?”

“No Pod, it’s to put on your burn, now that it has cooled sufficiently. Honey helps the skin heal more quickly and there are a few herbs mixed in that will help with the pain and prevent infection. I will put a little bit on the burn and cover it with a bandage. There are other treatments that the healers in King’s Landing use, but they have to be made fresh and can’t be easily preserved. This salve will suffice for now, as it fortunately isn’t a serious burn.”

He watched with rapt attention as she spread a small dab of honey salve on the burn and wrapped a strip of muslin around his hand. When the willow bark tea was sufficiently cooled she poured some into a cup for him and he drank it gratefully, only wincing slightly at the bitter taste. 

“The next time we come across a willow tree, I will show you the proper way to harvest and dry the bark. It's one of the most-used things in a healer’s kit, so we need to maintain a good supply.” He nodded eagerly again, and Brienne decided it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to have a squire who knew a bit about healing. After all, she might need his help to patch up her injuries one day. Little did she know that day would come sooner than she expected. 


	4. Chapter 4

Brienne was bleeding and her ears were ringing, but she didn’t feel any pain just yet as she desperately called out Arya Stark’s name. She knew at the back of her mind that the thrum of battle was still in her veins and that she would be in for a world of pain once it subsided, but right now the only thing that mattered was finding Arya. 

She called out the girl’s name until her voice was near gone, but there was no sign of her. Arya obviously did not want to be found and now Brienne was facing the very real consequences of her fight with the Hound. The adrenaline fueling her search suddenly vanished and the pain hit her all at once, causing her to crumple to the ground. She couldn’t move any further and had no voice to call for Podrick. She nearly laughed at the thought that she would die after failing in her quest so spectacularly and so soon.

With the avalanche of pain came the sharp metallic taste of blood in her mouth, along with something she couldn’t quite name. In a rush, she remembered that she had just bitten off a man’s ear and spit it out. She was also certain that her left arm had been dislocated at some point, but she had ignored it until just now. The pain radiated from her shoulder and down her arm, which she couldn’t properly move. 

“My lady!” came the nearby shout, but all she managed in response was a faint groan. By some miracle, he found her.

“I brought your healing bag, my lady, where are you hurt?” 

“Everywhere, Pod,” she grunted out, trying and failing to sit up. He caught her and gently guided her into a sitting position, and Brienne was impressed at his quiet show of strength. 

“I can see a head wound and bleeding, and I think you might have been stabbed, but I can’t see where else you are hurt without taking off your armor.” 

“I can’t take my armor off, just yet. My left arm has been dislocated at the shoulder and I need your help to set it back in place.” Podrick paled at the prospect.

“I’ve never done that before, my lady, what if I hurt you even more?” He looked as frightened as she felt, though she did her best to hide that from him.

“It will definitely hurt quite a bit,” she said through grit teeth, “but it’s the only way to fix it.” 

Brienne positioned herself as best she could and bid Podrick take hold of the hand that was flopping uselessly to stretch out her arm. She took three long, slow breaths and hoped Podrick was doing the same.

“Ok, on the count of three,” she muttered through grit teeth, and the boy nodded in response. 

“One...two...three!” 

Pain shot up into her shoulder and she screamed as Podrick yanked her arm, but it subsided once she felt it slip back into its socket. There was a dull ache in her shoulder, but she could finally move her arm properly. Her relief was short lived as the rest of her injuries made themselves known in that moment.

“Podrick I need your help to take off my armor so that we can assess the injuries like I taught you,” She tried to sound like the competent instructor she had tried to be these past weeks, but it barely came out as a whisper. 

Podrick looked terrified, all the blood was drained from his face and his hands shook as he fumbled with the buckles on her armor. It took him far longer than normal, especially given that Brienne would groan and wince in pain as each piece was removed. She would normally unlace her gambeson herself, but the lad knelt in front of her and pulled the cords carefully, trying desperately not to injure her further.

She felt exposed without her armor, like a turtle without its shell, but she was relieved to not see any bleeding wounds on her torso. Her legs had a few shallow cuts and scrapes from being dragged on the ground, but nothing severe. She partially lifted up her tunic and could see huge bruises across her ribs and belly that her armor hadn’t been able to block. She was certain her cunt was bruised from the punishing kick delivered by her opponent, but didn’t mention it to Podrick. She would deal with that particular injury later on her own.

“I will treat the cut on your head first and then the rest,” said Podrick, his voice wavering slightly. He dug through the bag and found the strips of fabric they used for bandages and the jar of ointment to treat cuts. It was only half full after the number of times she had to use it on Podrick, but it would be enough.

“You have to clean the wound first,” she reminded him in a weak voice, and he ran to get the waterskin while she waited with her eyes shut against the obnoxiously bright sun. He returned quickly and poured water on a clean bit of cloth, which he then used to dab at the wound. Brienne dug her fingernails into her thigh to keep from screaming in pain. She had learned to muffle her pain back at Renly’s camp, not wanting anyone to think her weak.

With fumbling hands, Podrick managed to apply ointment to the cut and wrap a bandage around her head. She hoped the wound didn’t need stitches, as she hadn’t yet taught Podrick how to do them, and she couldn’t do them on herself without a mirror. Alys used to have her practice stitches on a pig’s carcass, something that struck her as ironic at the time, given that Ser Goodwin once made her slaughter pigs to get over her fear of killing. She gingerly lifted her hand to her temple and thankfully didn’t feel any more blood seeping out from the bandage.

Her head ached terribly and she felt dizzy, so she allowed Podrick to apply ointment to the bruises and clean the cuts and scrapes. Exhaustion and despair seeped into her bones, permeating the mental walls she always surrounded herself with. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to start weeping. She felt like an utter failure, unable to fulfill her oath to Lady Catelyn and her promise to Ser Jaime. Arya Stark was out there somewhere, alone and unwilling to accept her help, and there was nothing she could do in her current state.

“Don’t despair, my Lady,” said Podrick, and she opened her eyes to see him looking at her with concern. “For ages now, everyone thought Arya dead. We know now she is alive and seemingly well, and that she has enough agency to leave here on her own. She has a weapon and her wits, and is no longer the Hound’s prisoner. She will find her own way, wherever that might take her. Lady Catelyn would have been satisfied knowing that.”

“There’s no way we could know that, Pod. I failed to uphold my vow and there’s little I can do about it now.”

“There’s still Lady Sansa,” he interjected. “She’s out there and we need to find her.”

“I’m little help in this state, I will need time to recover and plan our next move.”

“Then we make camp here and you rest as long as you need to. Then we make our way to an inn and do our planning there.”

“Alright,” she said after hesitating for a few moments. His plan was a sensible one and there weren’t many other options. Podrick set to work, building a fire and setting out their bedrolls. He poured water into the cooking pot and put in a few pinches of willow bark tea. Brienne was dismayed to see their supply was dwindling rapidly, but pleased to witness the competency her squire had gained from her lessons.

“Thank you, Pod,” she said quietly, and he gave a small smile in return. 

“We will find her, my Lady,” he said earnestly, and she hoped he was right.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter's background listening enjoyment: [the sound of a crackling fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgHKb_7884o)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have long wished the show gave us more of Brienne and Sansa's relationship, beyond Brienne being used as a human weapon and messenger. This healer au gave me a chance to show the care that Brienne could provide after trauma. CW this chapter for brief descriptions of injuries, mentions of abuse and references to abortion. I'm also completely making up how moon tea works.

Lady Sansa was in pain. From the way she winced when sitting on the horse to the tense look on her face, her suffering was apparent. Again, Brienne mentally kicked herself for leaving her vigil, giving Sansa no choice but to jump from a great height to escape her captors. Out of a sense of duty and guilt she had given Lady Sansa the cloak off her back, and now the cold bit into her.

They rode for as long as they could to put distance between themselves and Winterfell, but when the horses finally tired and they had to stop, Brienne saw a brief opportunity to help. Podrick helped her gather wood and start a fire while Sansa sat on a fallen log, a closed look on her face. Brienne handed her some strips of dried meat from the ration supply, and went about filling her cooking pot with snow to melt. 

This was a familiar ritual to her by now, one that Podrick also knew well. He handed her the pouch from her satchel, which had thankfully been recently filled. Brienne had sent him out to replenish their supplies while she waited outside of Winterfell, and he obtained extra willow bark as a precaution. In addition to that, Brienne added ginger, rosemary and dried valerian root. It was similar to the brew she had made for Ser Jaime so long ago, and the thought of him filled her with a strange warmth that unsettled her. 

Everyone remained silent as the brew steeped and they chewed listlessly on their dried rations. When the tea was cool enough to drink, she offered it to Lady Sansa like a cupbearer bringing the finest wine. Her lady’s response was to wrinkle her nose in disgust upon smelling it.

“I know it doesn’t smell good, Lady Sansa, but it will alleviate your pain.” In response to that, Sansa’s posture became rigid and a look of fear crossed her face.

“What makes you think I’m in pain?” she said sharply.

“Your ankle, you must have twisted it when you jumped from the walls of Winterfell. You were limping. This brew will help the swelling go down as well as reducing the pain. I can also make a cold compress with snow to put on it.” 

At that, Sansa’s expression softened and she exhaled a held breath. Brienne knew that there was more to her pain than her ankle, but realized this wasn’t the place to discuss it. Sansa took a small sip and winced at the bitterness. 

“I know it tastes awful, but it will do you a lot of good. Normally I put some dried mint leaves in to cover the taste, but we seem to be out of those.” She gave Podrick a pointed look and he looked abashed in response. She knew she was being harsh, but she had included mint on the list she gave him and he had simply forgotten. 

While Sansa slowly sipped the tea, Brienne poured another cup for Theon, assuming he had also injured himself while jumping. He rejected it with a shake of his head and hunched in on himself, muttering softly. Brienne respectfully kept her distance, suspecting a cup of tea would do little to heal him. The whispers from townsfolk of what had been done to him chilled her to the bone. Alys once told her the mind was infinitely more difficult to heal than the body and she believed it. He spent some time talking with Lady Sansa and Brienne gave them space. Shortly thereafter, Sansa announced that Theon would not be traveling with them to Castle Black and asked Brienne if he could take one of the horses. Brienne nodded her approval and he packed up quickly and left. She wished she could have done more for him. 

With Podrick’s help, Brienne tied a lump of snow to Lady Sansa’s ankle and let it rest a few minutes before they had to pack up and continue on their journey. The young woman had winced at the burn of the snow, but soon relaxed as it soothed the injury. When they were once more underway, Brienne noticed that Sansa no longer hunched in on herself and the strained look on her face was gone. Brienne hoped the valerian root had helped calm her mind, at least for the time being.

They kept up a grueling pace until they finally happened upon an inn in a remote village. Brienne knew it was a risk to stay there, especially if someone there was friendly with the Boltons and recognized Sansa, but she deemed it necessary. Their small party was exhausted and the horses needed rest. Sansa wrapped a scarf around her head to cover her Tully red hair, and the bulkiness of Brienne’s cloak helped disguise her as well. 

To their good fortune, the inn was full of people intent on eating and drinking and yelling at the serving girls, and no one paid their group any heed. Brienne paid for two rooms and quickly ushered everyone in, stopping to grab some bowls of stew and hunks of bread. She quietly conferred with Podrick and they planned to wake before dawn to continue on their journey. 

Once they were alone in the room, Brienne and Sansa ate their bread and stew in silence. There was an awkwardness surrounding them and Brienne wracked her brain for the right thing to say and do. For no reason at all, her thoughts strayed to Ser Jaime, and she wondered what he would think of her situation. He had sent her out prepared, but nothing could have readied her for this.

“You have a lot of herbs in your bag,” Sansa said, not quite a question.

“I do, my lady. I learned how to work with herbs and treat injuries when I was a girl, and I keep myself provisioned to treat a good number of ailments.”

“Do you have moon tea?” The question hung in the air like a fragile thing and Brienne jumped to fill the silence.

“I do, my lady. I can prepare it for you now if you like.” Sansa nodded stiffly and Brienne hurried to her bag to find the small bundle Ser Jaime had given her. She then realized she needed to know more first and took a quick breath before asking.

“Before I prepare it, I must know when your last moon’s blood was so that I can determine how strongly to brew it.” Alys had given her a great deal of information on the uses of moon tea before she left Tarth, but she never had the opportunity to use it herself since then. She was thankful that none of Alys’s fears had borne out, but Sansa had not been so lucky and Brienne’s heart ached for her. 

“Not long,” Sansa softly. “A fortnight at most. There was a servant at Winterfell who brought me moon tea in secret, the same one you gave the candle to. She was caught and he murdered her, had her flayed alive. It has been near a moon since I’ve had tea and I need to be certain.” She spit the last words out and Brienne felt a cold chill run through her.

“I will prepare a larger dose now and smaller doses each day for the next fortnight. Your blood should come at the normal time.” 

What she would do if it didn’t was left unsaid. If it came to that, they would have to find a real woods witch and Brienne had no idea where to even look.

Brienne busied herself with her cooking pot over the fireplace to distract herself from the feeling of Lady Sansa’s intense gaze boring into her. It would take some time for the herbs to steep to the proper intensity and she sat on the floor in front of the fire, willing her breath to calm for the sake of her patient. She let her gaze grow soft and focused on the light sound of the crackling fire.

“You said you could treat injuries, Lady Brienne.” The question startled her out of her meditation, almost accusatory in it’s tone.

“Yes, my lady. I have treated my own injuries and those of others. I have salves to promote healing, reduce bruising and fight infection, as well as clean bandages. I also have the willow bark for pain, though I wouldn’t mix it with the moon tea.” 

Lady Sansa wrapped her arms around herself, as though trying to become smaller. Brienne’s heart ached for her again.

“My Lady, have you been injured, beyond your ankle?” Lady Sansa gave a quick nod and Brienne caught her breath. 

“Would you allow me to treat your injuries now?” 

Another nod. Brienne nodded back and waited a few breaths for Sansa to make the next move. After some hesitation, the girl’s hands went to the laces on the back of her dress. Brienne slowly moved forward in a gesture of offering assistance, but the girl shrank back and shook her head. With her hands up in a conciliatory gesture, Brienne sat back and waited patiently. When the laces were finally undone and the fabric of the dress was pulled back to reveal Sansa’s back, Brienne winced sharply at the sight.

She did her best to keep her breathing under control, but it was challenging with the waves of anger and sorrow and sympathetic pain sweeping through her. The girl’s skin was covered in markings of the torture she had undergone. There were cuts and bruises, some still vivid, as well as burn scars and even teeth marks. Brienne’s eyes flooded and her hands shook as she dug through her bag. She knew she needed to be strong for Lady Sansa, but all she wanted to do in that moment was storm the gates of Winterfell and plunge Oathkeeper into Ramsay Bolton’s chest.

“I have a salve to put on the bruises,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake. “I also have a tincture to put on the wounds to prevent infection, and another salve to help them heal. May I start applying these treatments, my lady?”

Sansa nodded stiffly, her gaze fixed on some invisible horizon. Brienne wondered if she had gone away inside, as Jaime had once described to her. The girl had endured so much and Brienne hadn’t the faintest idea of how to fix the damage to her spirit. She longed for Alys’s calm voice and reassuring advice.

Brienne began with the tincture, a recent acquisition that Podrick had purchased, warning Sansa that the mixture of distilled spirits and witch hazel would sting, but not for long. She felt like a monster when the girl winced in pain as she cleaned the wounds as gently as she could. She found herself murmuring gentle words of encouragement softly under her breath. It was something Alys used to do and Brienne hoped it might have the same calming effect. She noticed Sansa’s shoulders relax slightly, which was reassuring.

Once the injuries were clean, Brienne set to work applying the different salves. She checked in with Sansa as she went, making sure she wasn’t hurting the girl any further. The arnica salve went on the dark bruises and the honey salve went on the cuts and burns. The injuries went beyond Sansa’s back, covering much of her body and it took Brienne some time to finish. She then got out the strips of muslin she kept for bandaging and wrapped the deepest cuts as best she could. 

They were both exhausted, mentally and physically, by the time she was finished, and she could tell Sansa was on the verge of falling asleep. Before that though, Brienne made sure she drank the moon tea she had so carefully prepared. Sansa made a face at the bitter brew, and Brienne nearly felt herself smiling.

“This is worse than the willow bark,” Sansa said softly. 

“I know, it’s pretty awful. Alys had me drink it a few times before I left Tarth so that I could get used to the taste and to make sure I didn’t have any ill effects from it.” She let it hang in the air that she never had reason to drink it after that.

“Tell me more about Alys,” Sansa said while stifling a yawn. “She must have taught you an awful lot.”

“She did, she was brilliant. She knew more about healing than any maester I’ve encountered. She was also kind to me at a time when I didn’t receive much kindness.”

“You got that from her as well then.” Sansa looked Brinne in the eyes for the first time since they arrived at the inn and smiled just a little. Brienne smiled back and felt a spike of emotion bring tears to her eyes.

“You need to get some rest, my lady. We have a long way to travel tomorrow and we must rise early.” Brienne handed Sansa the shift she usually slept in so that she could clean and hang up the gown the girl had worn. It was too large on Sansa but she didn’t seem to mind as she curled up under the thin blankets on the lumpy mattress. 

Brienne sat and watched the fire for a few moments as she breathed slowly and let the tension drain out of her body. She hoped Alys would be proud of the work she had done today. It was more mentally exhausting than anything she had done before, even during her ill fated travels with Ser Jaime. Her heart fluttered at the thought of Ser Jaime, and she tried to shake off the momentary lapse.

Once the gown was hung up to dry and the healing supplies were put away, Brienne stripped down to her tunic and carefully climbed into the bed next to Lady Sansa. 

“Is this alright, Lady Sansa?” she asked. She didn’t relish the idea of sleeping on the floor, but would gladly do so if Sansa wasn’t comfortable with sharing a bed. The girl nodded sleepily and moved close to Brienne, seeking out her warmth. Brienne was a bit flustered at first, but exhaustion soon took over.

The last coherent thought Brienne had before drifting into sleep was that she wished she could tell Ser Jaime of her day and see the look of pride on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an interlude (in which Brienne saves the day).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that my knowledge of first aid is very slim and I completely made up how moon tea works.

Brienne immediately felt uneasy when she stepped through the front door of the brothel. This was not a familiar world for her and she had no idea how to navigate it. Much to her chagrin, she immediately attracted the attention of the workers who initially saw her as a client, and then upon realizing her gender, a curiosity. A woman who appeared to be in charge stepped up and looked her up and down with an appraising eye.

“I’m Jeyne, and this is my establishment,” she said bluntly. “We don’t get many women here, but I’m sure my girls will be up to the task.What will it be, my lady? Would you like a fair lass to eat your cunt? Adella is quite adept at it, or so the other girls have told me.” The older woman laughed heartily before dissolving into a fit of coughing.

“No, I’m here seeking something else,” Brienne began, and was promptly interrupted.

“If it’s cock you’re looking for, you won’t find any here. I won’t have you taking any of our customers either. You’d best head to Castle Black, there’s no shortage of cock there. Of course half of them are murderers, but we can’t be picky.”

“I need moon tea!” she finally blurted out, and felt the blush spread across her face. “I need to purchase some moon tea and I was told that if I can’t find a herb shop, I should go to a brothel and ask there.” 

Alys was the one to give her that advice, and Brienne immediately wished she hadn’t. This was a bad idea. Jeyne’s face softened slightly, a look of understanding on her face.

“Tansy can be hard to come by this far north, but we keep a supply if you have the coin. It won’t be cheap.”

“That’s fine, I’m willing to pay.” 

“What happened then, are you in the family way?” The woman’s tone wasn’t unkind, but the questioning made Brienne exceedingly uncomfortable.

“It isn’t for me, a friend needs it.” Brienne’s supply had run out after the first week and she needed to make sure Sansa took the full two-week course. 

“Of course she does,” Jeyne said, obviously not believing her. “Well, whoever it’s for, I’ll go fetch it for you.”

She went into a back room, leaving Brienne in the shabby-looking front parlor. She hadn’t gotten a proper look at it earlier, but it wasn’t the most inviting place. She noticed two young women sitting in a back corner, deep in conversation. They had looked at her curiously when she first walked in, but were now pointedly ignoring her. Fortunately there weren’t any men around, she knew how they would most likely react to her presence. Brienne shifted her healing kit to her other shoulder, thankful that it’s heaviness meant that her supplies were mostly full.

A telltale moan emanated from an upstairs room, followed by giggles from the two women in the corner. Brienne’s face flushed a hot red as she focused intently on a nonexistent spot on the wall. She did not belong in this place and desperately wanted to leave. Jeyne emerged from the back room and was about to hand Brienne a cloth bundle when she had another coughing fit. This one went on longer, and Briene was starting to get concerned when the woman slumped to the ground, hitting her head as she went.

The two women in the corner let out cries of alarm and Brienne sprung into action. She didn’t know why or how, but she was immediately on the floor, checking to make sure Jeyne was still breathing. After a few moments of careful listening, she could make out that the breath was still there, but it sounded sickly and rasping.The best Brienne could determine was that the coughing fit had made the woman dizzy, leading to the swooning. She worried about the blow to Jeyne’s head, knowing from experience that it could be a serious injury.

“You two, over there,” she called out to the distressed women in the corner, “go put some water on to boil and bring me some blankets.” She wasn’t sure yet what the best course of action would be, but that seemed like a good start at least. The women looked at her uneasily and Brienne sighed.

“Your employer is very ill and has sustained an injury on top of that. She needs to be treated for both right away. If you can’t boil water, can you at least help me bring her to a bed?”

After exchanging looks, the younger woman with dark, curly hair jumped up and approached Brienne. “I’ll help you bring her to her room and Adella can boil the water.” 

Thankfully, Adella didn’t need much coaxing. She nodded and ran to a back room that Brienne assumed was a kitchen.

“I will need your help moving Jeyne, can you get her feet?” Brienne carefully lifted up the old woman’s torso, trying to keep her head as stable as possible. The young woman went for Jeyne’s feet and they slowly lifted her up. Taking careful steps together, they made their way to a dimly lit back room with a small bed covered in rumpled sheets. Brienne lowered her patient to the bed, wishing the sheets were cleaner.

“What’s your name?” she asked the woman who was helping her.

“Astor,” was the reply. “I also would have been happy to eat your cunt, by the way.”

The comment momentarily stunned Brienne, who had never received a proposition quite like that. She quickly shook it off and started examining Jeyne, who had not yet awoken. Brienne determined from the sound of her breathing and hot, clammy skin that the old woman had an infection in her lungs. She had some herbs that could help sooth the inflammation, but they needed to be drunk, which was impossible to do while unconscious. The bump on Jeyne’s head worried Brienne more, as she couldn’t tell how badly she was struck.

“Right now, the best thing we can do is let her rest. Could you go out and fetch some fresh snow? I can make a compress for her head, to help with the swelling.” Astor, looking more worried by the moment, nodded and rushed out of the room.

Brienne tried to calm herself, but she could feel her heart thudding in distress. She had dealt with situations more dire than this, but the stress of the past week left her wrung out, both physically and emotionally. It seemed that there was no end to her quest, that Lady Sansa would never truly be safe. She tried to remember her lessons from Ser Goodwin and to fall back on the familiar breathing. 

The room was quiet, but for the faint sound of rain outside. Brienne focused on that sound and let her thoughts go diffuse. It was a struggle to empty her mind, but she eventually managed to find some stillness. It didn’t last for long, but the little bit of clarity was exactly what she needed.

Her eyes snapped open when Astor returned with a bowl filled with snow and a clean cloth. Brienne set to work making a compress and then placed it on the spot on Jeyne’s head that was already rising into a swollen lump. Adella called from the kitchen that the water was boiling and Brienne bid Astor to take over holding the compress to her mistress’s head. Once in the kitchen, Brienne dug through her bag to find the mixture of herbs that would soothe coughing and mixed in some willow bark to help with the pain and fever. She added them to the small kettle of water and placed it over the banked part of the fire to simmer longer.

“Now what should we do?” asked Adella.

“Now we wait,” replied Brienne, knowing this isn’t what the woman wanted to hear. “We need her to be conscious to give her the tea that’s brewing, and I don’t know how long it will take for her to wake up.”

Brienne took the compress from Astor and repositioned it. There wasn’t much swelling on Jeyne’s scalp, which was somewhat reassuring. Alys had once told her that waving something strong-smelling under an unconscious person’s nose could wake them, but Brienne had nothing like that in her bag and had no idea what would work.

Brienne heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and wondered if they belonged to whoever was making those noises earlier. Sure enough, a hunched over figure stomped by Jayne’s room and made a beeline for the main entrance. A minute or so later, a lighter set of footsteps was heard, and a wiry woman with curly red hair bustled into the room.

“Old Gerold was even quicker than the last time,” she trilled, oblivious to those around her. “At this rate, he’ll soon be paying me for under a minute’s effort. Of course, I’ll still charge him for the full hour.” She finally seemed to notice the scene in front of her and fell silent, her mouth hanging open. Astor was preoccupied with sobbing onto Adella’s shoulder, so Brienne spoke up.

“Jeyne fell unconscious after a coughing fit and hit her head. I am observing her until she wakes and will then give her some tea I brewed to sooth her cough.”

“I kept telling her she needed to see old Hilda about that cough, she never takes care of herself,” the redhead said, looking distraught. “Are you a woods witch like Hilda? I didn’t know there were any other herb women around these parts.”

“I’m just traveling through this area and I’m not a woods witch, I just know a few things about herbs,” Brienne responded. “I came here to purchase moon tea and when Jeyne fell, I couldn’t stand by so I helped the best I could.”

“You sure you aren’t a woods witch? You have a whole bag full of herbs and know what to do with ‘em,” sniffled Astor, looking up. 

“I serve a high born lady as her sworn sword, and I do some healing as well,” Brienne said hesitantly, not wanting to reveal that it was Sansa in case any of them had loyalty to the Boltons. 

“I’ll bet you know how to wield a sword with those arms,” the redhead said in a tone that was slightly predatory.

“Oh leave her alone, Dorthea; Astor and I both offered already and she’s not interested.”

Brienne observed the exchange between the two women with some discomfort, but was thankfully distracted by the sound of Jeyne coughing. Brienne jumped to her side and saw her eyelids flutter open. She tried to sit up, but Brienne kept a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t sit up quite yet, I want to ensure you won’t faint again. How does your head feel?”

“Like it was hit by a boulder,” came the faint response. “Why is it so cold and wet?”

“Sorry, I made a compress of snow and it’s melting.” Brienne cleared the wet cloth away and examined the injury. “There isn’t much swelling, which is good. Your eyes seem normal as well. I can let you sit up now if you would like some help.”

Jeyne nodded and instructed Astor to position the pillows so that Jeyne could lean on them in a sitting position. Adella looked relieved while Dorthea seemed rather cross.

“How many times have I told you to get a cough tonic from Hilda? You never listen and now you nearly died because of it.” That wasn’t entirely accurate, but Brienne remained silent so that Dorethea could make her point. 

“You are lucky this woman was here to help you,” piped up Adella. “Astor and I wouldn’t have known to put snow on your head and she even has that cough tonic brewed up for you.” 

“It’s a tea, not a tonic, but it should be ready by now, if one of you could strain the herbs out and pour the liquid into a cup.” Astor and Adella both rushed to the kitchen while Dorthea fussed over Jeyne. She could tell the younger women had a great deal of affection for her and that the feeling was mutual. Brienne had no familiarity with brothels and had no idea what to expect, but she hadn’t imagined the sort of camaraderie that very clearly existed here. 

Astor and Adella returned with the cup of tea, proffering it as though it was the finest of wines. Jeyne took a sip and grimaced. When she tried to push the cup away, Astor brought it up to Jeyne’s lips with a stern expression.

“You WILL drink it all, I don’t care what it tastes like.” Jeyne grumbled but took another sip. Astor hovered by her bed until she drank it all.

“I can leave enough herbs for two more doses, and I recommend a few days of bed rest, if you can manage it.”

“There isn’t much demand for me at my age, but I’m the one who keeps this place running, it would fall apart without me.”

“No it won’t,” said Dorthea firmly. “The rest of us can help out while you recover, we insist.” The other two nodded enthusiastically. 

“Alright then,” Jeyne said with some hesitation. “The lot of you had better not make me regret this. Now go fetch this kind woman her moon tea, free of charge.” Brienne nearly spoke up to say she could pay, but the stern expression on the older woman’s face halted her tongue. She nodded instead.

“Thank you, that is much appreciated.”

“Astor, throw in a bit extra. I know she says it’s for her mistress, but I don’t doubt there’s a man out there she’s got her eye on. She should be prepared when she next sees him.” 

Brienne thought of Ser Jaime and blushed hotly, remembering the bundle of moon tea he had given her with the healing kit. Jeyne nodded and smiled knowingly. 

“See I knew it, I hope you give him more of a chance than you gave my girls.” Astor and Adella giggled while Dorthea rolled her eyes. 

Feeling somewhat dazed, Brienne eventually made her way out into the cold, the bundle of moon tea safely stored in her bag, along with the loaf of bread and wedge of cheese that Adella had slipped in when she wasn’t looking. She breathed in the cold air and felt oddly satisfied as she made her way back to the inn. 


End file.
